


it can't be for nothing

by crowkag



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Afterlife, Harry Potter References, Near Death Experiences, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Deserves A Break, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26037541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowkag/pseuds/crowkag
Summary: Yinsen sat on a bench, relaxed in the shoulders. When Tony joined him, easing himself down onto the wooden slats with a soft, easy groan, the man turned to look at him.He still had his glasses on, and Tony found that funny. God must offer vision coverage.The man smiled. “It’s good to see you.”Tony leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees. He linked his fingers and stared out at an endless stretch of white. Heaven was much… emptier, than he’d ever imagined.“Likewise.”(or: Tony has a decision to make.)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Ho Yinsen
Comments: 32
Kudos: 134





	it can't be for nothing

**Author's Note:**

> found this thing sitting in an old google drive of mine, that i started the same day endgame came out aha. saw that opening night where i was. no happy memories there, but hey! i am excellent at ignoring canon.
> 
> mild warnings for near-death experiences, i guess? except it's very peaceful. and tony lives in the end :) also, apologies for the harry potter stuff. it was already in place as a story point when i first made this doc last year. jkr receives zero support in this house and if you're a terf you can keep on walking!!!!!!

At what he thought was the end, Tony saw Yinsen.

He’d never considered himself a religious man. It hadn’t bothered him, to see nothing when he imagined the afterlife. At his parents’ funeral, plenty of people had alluded to the idea of Heaven.

“I’m sure they’re happy and safe.”

“They’re smiling down on you.”

“Nobody’s ever truly gone.”

And Tony had nodded his head, a bit dizzy and very empty. He’d said his thanks, tried not to stiffen at the hugs, and gone home to a large house devoid of comfort. The idea of Howard with wings, gallivanting around in the sky, had felt comical. The thought of his mom doing the same had made him sick.

But that was Tony Stark. Never the man to focus on unknowables, not the type to get on his knees and pray.

So, seeing Yinsen was… a surprise, to say the least. But, hey. There were stones floating around in the universe with the power to unravel life as anybody knew it, and giant purple aliens with the endgame goal of wielding them. If that was possible, then why not this?

Yinsen sat on a bench, relaxed in the shoulders. When Tony joined him, easing himself down onto the wooden slats with a soft, easy groan, the man turned to look at him.

He still had his glasses on, and Tony found that funny. God must offer vision coverage.

The man smiled. “It’s good to see you.”

Tony leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees. He linked his fingers and stared out at an endless stretch of white. Heaven was much… emptier, than he’d ever imagined.

“Likewise.”

“This sure is a far cry from a small cave in Afghanistan, huh?”

“Yep. Though, it’s a little too… nothing, for my tastes.”

Yinsen considered him, head tilted and smile quiet. Then he turned back out and gestured with a hand.

“What you see is nothing. For me? It’s quite beautiful.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, looked sideways at Yinsen’s profile. The nothingness sat all around, in every direction, along all axises. And yet, this man closed his eyes, angled his chin up and breathed deep through his nose, as if savoring a springtime breeze. Tony smirked, hummed, straightened into the bench’s backrest and propped one ankle atop his opposite knee.

“Alright, humor me. Where’s your happy place?”

Yinsen hummed, waved a hand.

“Oh, it varies. Right now I’m in Chicago, in Portage Park.” He opened his eyes back up, pointed with a finger at some distant spot. “I first met my wife under that tree. We’d both traveled to this city for an academic conference, back in ‘87.”

“Mm. Very picturesque,” Tony acknowledged. He saw no tree.

The pointer finger aimed at nothing remained raised, turned in a new direction to point at something equally as invisible.

“And over there, the playground? Our daughter fell off the monkey bars, once. Fractured her wrist, screamed like a banshee. We thought that would be the end of our trips here, that Aneesa would be too scared of this city from then on. Only—” Yinsen chuckled fondly, shaking his head, “—maybe a month or so after we returned home, she’s complaining that she never got to finish the monkey bars! So we found ourselves back out here again by the end of the year.”

Smiling widely, Tony laughed too.

“Hey, kids are resilient. Morgan’s the exact same way.”

“As I’ve heard,” Yinsen said, nodding and settling back into the bench. He placed his hands in his lap, began idly twirling one thumb around the other. Calm, serene, and Tony knew the park was nice regardless of limitations.

“So.” Yinsen looked at him from his periphery.

“So?”

“So, what would you see? If you could see anything at all.”

Tony blinked, lips parting then closing. Thinning. He hadn’t expected circumstances to be turned around, though he supposed it was only natural. He was here, wasn’t he? And what else did one talk about, sitting on a bench in this space of _in between_ , moving forward, backward. Talking to a man who’d saved your life, before you knew your life was worth saving?

And Tony thought about that. About his life. About how he owed this man everything, including an honest answer. He found the ridged circumference of his wedding band, rubbed along it and stared out, squinting as he considered.

There was… too much.

Too much to choose from.

Stakeouts in the MIT dorms. Clearing out vending machines of all their snacks, their sodas. A crinkle of wrappers piled high on student lounge couches, beside a stack of long-forgotten textbooks, pages folded and covered in coffee rings. Ping pong balls, back and forth, a game for two at 2 AM. Thunk against the table, the paddle, table, paddle, table, paddle, wall. Laughter. Down another soda, rinse and repeat.

Rain puddles shimmering with reflections of neon signs. A 24/7 pizza joint, the taste of grease on the tongue. Fingertips coated in salt, sitting on a curb with breaths fogging in the air, trying to ignore how heavy the world felt, just for one moment. Caught up in a loop of awful inside jokes.

Sunshine, with her. On freckled shoulders. In the bunches of sheets. Past thin curtains. A kiss, one or two, or three, or thirty, in the hallway. Against the kitchen counter. Lips tasting of herbal tea with three spoonfuls of sugar, lined with a smile, and an unspoken promise to come home safe. Quiet things, slow things, lovely things.

Loud things, too. The thrill of flying. The terror of falling. A hand catching yours at the last second. Exhilaration, knowing Death had watched with rapt attention, then turned away, gone home, annoyed and empty-handed. Knowing this was unhealthy, this daredevil chase toward a peak not meant to be crossed so soon. But a firm grip on the shoulder, a clap on the back, an offering of a crayon drawing, a smile, a “thank you, Iron Man. For saving me.” It was enough.

All of it was, in essence. The sights, sounds, smells. Any instance floating behind Tony’s eyes, it could be projected out there, shaping that blank space into eternity. This was it, he knew. This was where he’d found himself. This was an ultimate decision.

“My happy place…” he wondered. Looked around. Squinted harder, if that were possible. Way, way too much to choose from.

And then he smiled.

“Hm. You know what this place reminds me of?”

Yinsen raised an eyebrow, lips quirked.

“Portage Park?”

“No. Whatever you saw before Portage Park. Whatever I’m seeing.”

“That reverses our problem, Stark.”

At the laugh in Yinsen’s voice, Tony made a face.

“Hey, if I managed, then so can you.”

“I will certainly make an attempt. So—” the man made another sweeping gesture through the air, a request to proceed, “—what are you reminded of?”

Tony’s smile softened.

“Harry Potter,” he said, almost whispered. And suddenly, he felt it was just him on that bench.

“Peter introduced me to it. Well, I _say_ introduced. I really mean he sat my ass down on the couch, back at my old penthouse in the city, and tried to binge all eight movies with me. He fell asleep halfway through Goblet of Fire, woke up during Deathly Hallows when Snape was getting offed, mumbled ‘He kinda deserves it,’ and then fell right back asleep.”

Tony chuckled under his breath, leant forward once again to rest his elbows on his knees, and stared at his hands. He had a feeling that maybe he _was_ alone on the bench, now, but found no reason to check.

“There’s the scene, with Harry and Dumbledore at that white train station. That’s what this reminds me of.” Tony swallowed before he continued, “He’d asked me to read the books first, and… I said I was busy. With the wedding planning. Which was the truth, the kid got that, and the movies were a compromise of sorts. But then everything happened, with… everything. And I realized I hadn’t been _that_ busy.”

Looking up, he blinked hard.

“I read them to Morgan, eventually. Just to help her fall asleep when she was a baby. Pepper told me it was too dark, but—” he laughed, a small thing, “—it’s not like she could understand me. Of course, _now_ she can. And she loves Harry Potter. Even the scary bits.”

A heartbeat. A shrug.

“So, yeah,” he finished. “Got two fans on my roster. One little, the other less so, but… no, yeah. They’re both little. Compared to me, at least.”

Another heartbeat, and another smile. Tony took a breath, evenly, in and out. Felt his single heartbeats double, then triple… Heard a laugh, somewhere, the delighted squeal of a little girl. And light snoring, against his shoulder, with a couch behind his back.

Then Yinsen’s voice, far off. From someplace else _,_ practically receding. Already accepting a decision long since made.

_So, what would you see? If you could see anything at—_

“I’d want to see them again.”

**_____________________________**

Past what he thought was the end, Tony still sat in a sea of white.

He blinked awake, slowly, carefully. Body sluggish, mind even more so. And the world came back to greet him. No great amount of color went seeping in from his peripheries—indeed, hospital rooms were quite bland—but there were small things. Small doses.

The slight ache to his neck. The pinch of an IV.

Dust swirling in a sunbeam.

The bend of light against metal bed rails.

A steady beep, in time with the pulse tapped out inside his index finger.

Footsteps past a door. Voices, too. Idle chatter, serious whispers.

The way the skyline looked outside the window.

Scents of flowers. Crayon textures against paper after paper, piled high on his bedside table.

The grip of somebody else’s hand in his, fallen lax in sleep. Light snoring, like back on that penthouse couch. Like one Harry Potter movie cycling into another.

Tony smiled to himself, leaning back to stare up at the ceiling.

Just look at how far he’d come.

**Author's Note:**

> & there i was, casually naming my fic after a line from the last of us :) 
> 
> thank you for reading, leaving kudos, comments, all that
> 
> <3000


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